


The Quickest Way to a Father-in-law's Heart

by neapeaikea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neapeaikea/pseuds/neapeaikea
Summary: Stiles brings Derek home to meet his dad for the first time. Derek might be very eager to make a good impression.





	The Quickest Way to a Father-in-law's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ridiculous story that basically exists because of my love for fics where Derek and the sheriff bonds. I just loove the sheriff becoming a father figure for Derek. I tried to put a little spin on it but don't know how well I did. If it at points seems rushed, it's so the story wouldn't drag on forever. I did love writing this kind of relationship between Stiles and Derek. Feedback is lovingly drooled on!

”Stop looking at me like that.”

“Aww, don’t be like that.” Stiles patted Derek’s knee before putting his hand back on the driving wheel.

“You should be looking at the road.” Derek grumbled, crossing his arms.

Stiles pointedly looked from one side of the road to the other, “There hasn’t been another car for ten minutes.”

“And whose fault is that?” 

Stiles shook his head in amusement over his boyfriend’s grumpiness. Derek had been griping about the late flight from D.C. ever since Stiles booked it. He’d come up with reason after reason why it was a terrible idea, like they’d waste a whole day just waiting to get their trip started, or that they’d have to deal with airplane food for dinner, or that they’d be too tired to drive down to Beacon Hills from the airport. 

“It’ll be fine.” Stiles said soothingly, when Derek didn’t stop glaring daggers out the passenger seat window. “You really don’t have anything to be nervous about.”

“Don’t jinx it.” Derek muttered.

Stiles couldn’t help it, he started laughing. Derek was really too adorable for words. He acted like a big tough guy, but at heart he was a shy, adorable man eager to do the right thing. 

They’d first met two years ago, when Stiles had finally been permitted to join active FBI investigations as a field operative, not just as a probie sorting through phone call lists and reading suspects’ Facebook posts for anything incriminating. Derek had been in the background of an investigation about murders in a Pennsylvania forest, showing up to meetings to just nod or shake his head when the lead agent asked questions about animals. Stiles’ curiosity was piqued, obviously, by the very attractive man that was never introduced by name and whose opinions on animal foot prints could change the direction of a whole investigation. 

He hadn’t known whether to focus on the man’s looks or his mystery, and the few conversations Stiles had started hadn’t been his best, even if he had finally gotten Derek’s name out of him. When the case was solved, Derek, like many of the other consulting agents on the investigation, disappeared into thin air. 

A few months later, Stiles had been surprised to see Derek walk out of a conference room with Rafael McCall, both of them with grim faces. He’d called out a greeting, and the two men had looked at each other for long moment before McCall nodded at Stiles. That nod had apparently meant Stiles was recruited to one of the FBI’s most secret investigative units. He still wasn’t sure whether it was the best or the worst thing that had ever happened to him. 

Lie. He knew it was the best thing that ever happened to him, since Derek was the best thing that ever happened to him. 

They’d been together for eight months now, and it was finally time to take Derek home to meet his dad. Stiles and Derek’s relationship had been serious from the start, something they’d discussed at great length before they’d gone on their first date. It had been clear to Stiles early on that Derek wasn’t exactly a guy that let people in, and he was so glad he’d decided to ignore his immediate lust and instead gone for the long play, getting to know Derek as a colleague and then a friend. Every time Derek let him get a glimpse behind his walls, Stiles wanted to jump in excitement. 

Back in the car, Derek fidgeted some more in his seat, turning around to look at the potted cactus that sat in the backseat, which they’d bought at the airport since Derek had insisted they bring something and that the shops in Beacon Hills would probably be closed by the time they got there. 

“Oh my God, would you calm down?” Stiles asked. “You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“He’s your dad.” Derek turned back to half-glare at Stiles. “I want to make a good impression.”

“I know that, but dude, you’re acting like it’s the Spanish Inquisition. He’s just an old guy who has known me a very long time.” When Derek made to argue, Stiles reached over for his hand, “It’s gonna be fine, okay? You’re just the kind of responsible guy he wishes I’d brought home in my teens.”

“You brought guys home before?”

“Uh,” Stiles stalled, taking his hand back to scratch at his neck. “Not officially?”

Derek blinked at him, then nodded in comprehension, “He’s caught you with someone.”

“I assert my Fifth Amendment right to not give evidence against myself.” Stiles grinned, signaling for the next exit of the freeway.

“Denied.” Derek dismissed, body language a lot more relaxed than it had been.

“Your Honor, if it pleases the court, the defense is willing to give ample testimonials of other sexual activities, and maybe even a physical demonstration of such acts, in return for what is, in fact, an assertion of any American’s constitutional rights.”

Derek pondered this with the gravitas the situation deserved, a hand carefully running over his well-trimmed beard. “Very well, I’ll allow it.”

Stiles fist-pumped in victory, “Yes! Also, we’re about ten minutes out.”

Having been back only two months ago for Christmas, there weren’t that many new things for Stiles to look at. He glanced instead at Derek, who was looking out the window and turning his head back and forth as he took in Beacon Hills by night. It was around eleven at night, so there were a few people out, but no big crowds. There were definitely more cars than on the freeway, meaning Stiles couldn’t stare at Derek staring at houses as they went past. Stiles purposely took the route that had them driving through some of Beacon Hills’ livelier neighborhoods, including a quick zip past the sheriff’s station. 

“He’s off shift, right, he’s gonna be there when we get there?” Derek asked.

“Yes, dear.” Stiles snarked. At the same time as Derek’s nerves about meeting the in-law was endearing, he was also a tad annoying with asking the same questions over and over.

Derek opened his mouth, probably to tell Stiles to quit being an ass, but something stopped him. They were quiet the last few minutes until Stiles pulled into the driveway of his old house, the only place he’d ever really called home. His father had thoughtfully parked the cruiser inside the garage. 

“Alright, here goes nothing.” Stiles tapped Derek’s shoulder, and leaned in for what he hoped was a comforting kiss when Derek turned to him.

Derek smiled when the kiss was over, looking at Stiles with that soft, adoring look that could just about kill Stiles from the fluffiness and feelings displayed in them. Derek wasn’t the best with words, but his actions spoke loudly enough, especially when it came to being a boyfriend. 

“Come on,” Stiles was the first out of the car, walking around to the trunk to get their bags out. They were staying for a week for his dad’s birthday, and they’d both learned to pack light in their line of work. When he closed the trunk, he saw that Derek had grabbed the cactus and worked very hard not to laugh. 

He’d seen Derek eviscerate other werewolves, maul trolls and hunt shapeshifters. He’d held Derek’s bleeding bowels in place, had punched him to keep him awake. They’d poured over macabre case photos and vomited poisoned meat loaf together. Not once had his faith in Derek’s capabilities and strengths weakened or faltered. Now he saw a man carrying a plant like it was a child, determined expression on his face, and Stiles wondered if Derek would survive the night.

As soon as they stepped onto the porch, the door to the house swung open. John Stilinski looked happy, a welcoming smile on his face as he greeted his guests, “Boys! How good of you to make it!”

Once inside the house, Stiles was quickly enveloped in a warm hug by his father, and even if he was in his twenties, it still felt great to be surrounded by his father’s strength and love. Stiles tapped his dad on his stomach as they disentangled from their embrace. “You sure you’ve been staying away from the chicken wings like you said?” 

John rolled his eyes, “You know better than to fat shame people, Stiles.”

“And you know only skin-free chicken is allowed in this house.” Stiles countered. He turned to Derek, chest constricting at the obvious apprehension his boyfriend felt. He put what he hoped was a comforting hand on Derek’s elbow and made the necessary introductions. “Dad, this is Derek. Derek, this is my dad.”

John held his hand out, “John. Everyone says sheriff ‘round here, but John is good enough. Sometimes I remember that’s my name.”

“Derek Hale. I’m very pleased to meet you, sir. Here,” Derek let go of the sheriff’s hand to instead present the cactus, “we brought you something for the house.”

“Oh,” John glanced at Stiles for the tiniest of seconds while accepting the plant, “that’s very thoughtful, so it must be your idea and not Stiles’. His manners disappeared somewhere in high school.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Didn’t know if you boys’d be hungry or not so I got some stuff out for sandwiches.” John said, “Go ahead and leave your bags and I’ll get you something to drink at least.”

“Thanks, dad, sandwiches sounds great.” Stiles took his bag from where he’d dropped it on the floor, squeezing Derek’s elbow to make him move further inside the house “Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

Derek looked like he wanted to say something, but settled on nodding. Stiles pointed out a few pictures and notable dents in the walls from his childhood and adolescence, putting his finger briefly to his favorite photo of his mother in a quick ‘hello’. Derek followed mostly silent, but it wasn’t until he was shuffling in the doorway to Stiles’ bedroom that Stiles picked up on anything being off. 

“You okay? I think you made a good first impression, seriously, a firm handshake but not too hard.” Stiles smiled. 

“Are we…” Derek looked out into the hallway, before lowering his voice, “you know, sharing a room?”

“Wha– oh man. Oh man, oh man,” Stiles laughed, crossing the room to give Derek a hug, “We will most definitely share a room, and a bed, while at my dad’s house. There will also be making out and groping, but we don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to.”

“Oh my God, Stiles.” Derek put his forehead on Stiles’ shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry about superhearing here, okay? Except for when you meet Scott, but that’s probably not ‘til the day after tomorrow.”

“Can’t believe I’m meeting your dad and McCall’s son all in the same week.” Derek muttered, apparently over his freak-out, sitting down on the bed to get rid of his shoes. 

“Best week ever for you, huh?” Stiles opened the nightstand drawer to see that _The Fellowship of the Ring_ was still in there, as was some condoms and lube. 

“You know, this is not at all what I pictured your room to look like.” Derek said, looking around the place. “There are no video game posters, no _Star Wars_ -figurines and that book shelf is way too organized. And this bed looks and smells brand new.”

“How does a bed smell brand new?” At Derek’s raised eyebrow, Stiles held up his hands, “Nevermind. I haven’t lived here in nearly five years now, I’m okay with dad making this a more presentable room. The Han Solo and Chewie figurines are with me in D.C., as you well know.”

They soon joined the sheriff downstairs in the kitchen, making small talk about their flight and John’s day at work. Stiles noticed that Derek had withdrawn into his shell again, the one that it had taken weeks for Stiles to pull him out of when they first started working together. It was to be expected though, Derek was always uncomfortable with new people and probably expecting some kind of interrogation. To Stiles’ relief, his dad either didn’t notice or felt like questioning Derek’s quiet mood, and Derek engaged enough with the conversation for it not to be weird.

“Well, I’m gonna hit the sack.” John said eventually. “I’ve got the afternoon shift tomorrow, but then I’ve got four whole days off. Figured we’d go up to the lake one day, and maybe you’d wanna show Derek the preserve. I’ve got some jobs ‘round the house need doing that takes two people too, so don’t think you’re getting out of that.”

Stiles let out an exaggerated groan, but Derek finally offered some input without being prompted, “I’d be happy to help, sir.”

“Good on you, son.” John nodded at them both and stood up from the table, “Night, then.”

“G’night, dad.” Stiles waved lazily, watching his dad ascend the stairs. 

“He’s nice.” Derek said quietly.

“Yeah, he is. You wanna watch TV for a bit? Dad’s got the baseball package, the games should be over by now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They sat on the sofa, watching the day’s action in MLB. Derek had his arm around Stiles, letting the younger man curl up against him. Stiles only paid half attention to the screen, the other on not getting too emotional about having the man he loved accepted without question by his dad. 

**

They spent most of the next day in the preserve, Stiles knowing that Derek’s ‘wolf would love it. After Derek had wolfed out and run around while pretending to not have fun, they went sightseeing. Stiles pointed out the best pizza joint in town, where he’d broken his arm while in junior high, and the house he lost his virginity in. 

“A Spanish style villa, classy.” Derek remarked.

“Where’d you lose yours?” Stiles questioned. 

Derek smirked, “A Camaro.”

“No way. Not the one you drive now, right?”

“Nah, it wasn’t mine.”

“But that’s why you drive one. Oh my God, that’s so messed up.” Stiles laughed.

“You haven’t complained when I’ve blown you in it.”

Leaning in, Stiles whispered into Derek’s ear, “I wouldn’t complain about your warm, wet mouth on my throbbing dick even if we were in a morgue, baby.”

“Would you let the morgue idea go?” Derek pushed Stiles away, taking care to not push too hard. “It’s not happening.”

“I’ll get us there someday.” Stiles had been joking about doing it in a morgue since their fifth date had been cancelled due to McCall informing them of a new case in Maryland. Instead of going to a Nats game, they’d stood in a morgue, looking at a dead man missing his heart and eyes. Back at the hotel that had been their HQ for the case, Stiles had insisted the morgue counted as a date. Derek had been of a different opinion. 

Dinner was a relaxed affair, John in good spirits and Derek a little more at ease around his boyfriend’s father than the previous night. Stiles noticed Derek participating more in the conversation, and it was only logical that his dad would ask some more personal questions. Stiles didn’t consider how talking about work and studies would lead to talk of family until half a second too late.

“You know, Derek, I don’t think I caught where you’re from. Stiles mentioned California, I think?” John said.

“Yeah, pretty much as far north as you can get without entering Oregon.”

“Does your family still live there?” 

Stiles tensed, because he could see Derek tensing up. To his credit, John realized something was up immediately but didn’t draw attention to it. 

Derek drank some water before replying, “It’s just me.” He glanced at Stiles briefly as Stiles reached for his hand. “My family passed away when I was a teenager. There was a fire.”

“Oh Jesus, kid, I’m so sorry.” John looked crestfallen. 

“Yeah.” Derek shrugged, “I went back, once. But uh, first I was in Portland, then Seattle. I moved around a lot, kinda spiraling, I guess. Spent a couple of years in New York.”

“I’m so sorry, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” John insisted. 

“No, it’s okay.” Derek’s hand tightened around Stiles’. “For a long time I didn’t talk about it, but I’m fine with it now. Not with the fire, but talking about it.”

Stiles had to fight back tears. Derek had said pretty much the same to him a year ago, but in the time since, Derek had told him more about his family, how young they’d all been. Derek had told him about the years he’d spent drifting both literally and metaphorically, about the bad choices he’d made and the shitty people that had taken advantage of his insecurities. Stiles had been devastated for a younger Derek, and honored to be let in past those steel walls the older Derek had built up.

“You’ve been based in Virginia for a good while now, though.” Stiles said once they’d all taken a moment to regroup. 

“Virginia?” John prompted, following Stiles’ lead. 

“Yeah, got a place about 90 minutes west of D.C., I go in to the Bureau when McCall needs me, or anyone else. Travel a lot too, with the job and all.” Derek explained. 

“Sometimes he comes into the city because of me, too.” Stiles said light-heartedly.

Derek rolled his eyes, but still squeezed Stiles’ hand before letting it go, returning to his meal. The conversation was a little subdued after that. At one point Stiles met his dad’s eyes, and saw the unspoken apology in there, and the promise to be careful with Derek. It meant the world, because if Derek and his dad didn’t get along, Stiles didn’t know what he’d do.

**

Introducing Derek to Scott was a lot more taxing on Stiles’ nerves than introducing him to his dad. Mostly because they were both Alpha werewolves that had insinuated their ‘wolves felt possessive of Stiles, but also because Scott was Rafael McCall’s son. 

It was McCall that had recruited Derek to the Enhanced Species Unit five years ago despite Derek having no law enforcement background, and by the time Stiles joined, McCall ran the show. Derek was loyal to McCall in a way that was difficult for Stiles to relate to since he knew how shit McCall had treated his wife and son all those years ago. Stiles was still prone to pick fights with his boss, and he knew he only got away with it because McCall felt guilty about how he’d left his family. 

They met with Scott for lunch at a diner near the veterinary clinic. It didn’t start off great with a fair amount of huffing and puffing from both werewolves, but Scott still gave Derek a bro hug when the older man excused himself an hour later to catch up on emails and reports from work.

Stiles watched Derek leave, knowing he probably looked like a fool ogling his boyfriend like that. Scott’s chuckle made Stiles turn back to him, “What?”

“It’s cute. The way you look at him.” Scott grinned. “And he at you.”

Stiles felt a little blush spread across his neck, “I don’t know, man. That’s love, I guess.”

“Love, huh?”

“Yep, so whatever ‘wolf issues you have, tell me about it now.” Stiles was getting more and more used to working with and against different supernatural creatures, and if there was one thing he’d picked up, it was that they all had problems out the wazoo with each other, including their own species. 

“No problem. It’s weird that you smell like another ‘wolf, but he smells like you too, and the way he was territorial with you, like keeping his arm around you, means he’ll take care of you. He was eager to show me that he’s gonna provide for you and defend you, so that’s good.”

“Oh my God, he’s practically never ordered for me before. Or is that into PDA. Now I get it.” Stiles would have to file Scott’s intel away to dissect later. “So, he really does have some reports to check for retractions and reimbursement, but I think he mostly left so you and I could get some time alone.”

“It’s kinda weird that he knows my dad.” Scott said quickly, broaching a topic they’d all done their darndest to stay away from.

“Yeah. I, uh, might have spilled a little too much about how I knew his boss, and how I knew about the supernatural when I joined the unit.”

“Oh.” Scott fiddled with the straw in his soda glass. “So Derek knows he left us?”

“Yeah.” Stiles scratched his head. 

McCall had had a hand in Stiles making it to Quantico in the first place, and had been the one to handpick Stiles for the ESU. But none of that would ever make Stiles forgive him for choosing the bottle over his family, or for giving up on being a parent when Scott had wanted nothing more than a father that fought for him. While Derek had figured out on his own that McCall had regrets, he hadn’t known exactly what kind and Stiles ranting about McCall as they were getting used to working together had definitely made things awkward for a while. But Derek had never stopped being loyal to McCall or believing he was a good guy at heart. Stiles was still on the fence about that.

Scott cleared his throat, “Wanna come with to the clinic and help me clean out cages and talk me out of my latest proposal idea?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

**

Spending the afternoon with Scott put Stiles in a good mood, not least of all because Scott approved of Derek even if he found it strange that someone could have such a positive attitude towards his father. They’d talked about Scott hopefully getting engaged in the very near future, and Stiles having a live-in boyfriend within a year if things went his way. 

Returning home he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe Derek at his laptop and his dad on the couch. What he sure as hell wasn’t expecting was to find them both in the backyard, Derek up in one of the trees with a handsaw. Underneath one of the other trees there was a pile of branches already sawn off. His dad was directing Derek from below, and greeted Stiles with a wink. Stiles rolled his eyes. His dad had banned him from anything to do with handsaws, not allowing it even when Stiles had a badge proving he was an FBI agent. 

“Hey, you two. I see you found something horrendous and life-threatening to do with your time.” Stiles greeted them.

“Derek here offered to help out with some yardwork. You know I haven’t had a chance to trim these beauties in the past few years.” John said, face schooled into the picture of innocence. 

Stiles gave his dad an equally neutral look, “Yes, of course, no chance to find a strapping young lad to let up the tree with a saw.”

“Ready?” Derek asked from above their heads.

“Der, I’ll get you a drink.” Stiles said, putting a warning finger in the air when John made to speak, “None for you.”

John just chuckled and turned his attention to Derek, “Ready, let her rip.”

**

They celebrated John’s birthday in style, the three of them spending the day at the lake about an hour north of Beacon Hills. John and Derek fished while Stiles talked the fish away, or so the other two claimed when they had very little to show for their hours of sitting on their asses. Stiles came prepared with beer, hot dogs, and three store-bought pieces of cake. When John told Stiles he’d had a great birthday and gave him a hug before bed that night, Stiles believed him. 

**

Stiles woke up on the fourth day without Derek in bed. He had breakfast alone, playing games on his phone and checking his work email. Derek was right, it was looking more and more likely that the omega they’d lost in Virginia had resurfaced, as two autopsy reports of Jane Does in Kansas showed signs of his particularly vicious M.O.. Stiles hated when they couldn’t stop their marks in time, or those fuckers managed to outsmart the small, but highly competent ESU team. Stiles was supposedly the research expert on the unit, working closely with Tara, their profiler, and he took it as a personal insult when they were outwitted.

After he’d replied to the most pressing emails, he went about finding Derek and his dad. It was a little strange that neither had shown their faces in the forty minutes Stiles had been downstairs, but since he could hear clanging and muffled voices from somewhere in the house, he wasn’t too worried. 

He found them in the garage, sorting through what looked like old tools and new paint supplies. They both gave him what could only be considered cursory greetings before turning back to whatever their project was. 

“We could use some of the planks from the bottom of Stiles’ old bed. I was gonna sell it but I haven’t gotten around to it yet, and this seems like just as good a use for it.” John said.

Derek shifted his eyes to Stiles for a brief moment. “Sir, when did you get that new bed for Stiles’ room? It’s very comfortable.”

“Glad to hear it, Stiles insisted on a new one when he was here for Christmas, apparently the other one was too old and small.” John paused, looking at Derek. “Had new paint up on the walls too, and put some of his old stuff away.”

Stiles couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and crossed his arms in a tiff, “Gee thanks, dad, way to blow my cool.”

John shrugged, “I’m gonna get another cup of coffee before we start.” He left them alone with a distinct ‘my work here is done’-air about him.

Derek didn’t say anything, just turned a paint bucket around and checked the instructions. With a light sigh, Stiles came up behind him and squeezed his elbow.

“You prepared your room for me?” Derek asked.

Stiles jumped up to sit next to the paint buckets on a small work table, “Don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at what had to be a lie, Stiles said, “You weren’t ready to do Christmas, and I meant it when I said I was fine with that. But I still wanted to bring you out here. The old bed was terrible, okay, it was second hand to start with, then I had it for at least ten years. It was just logical to get a new bed where we’d both fit. Then new paint just made sense, then it got away from me, changing the photos I have up and the books, and yeah…”

Derek put his hands on Stiles’ knees, “I’m not freaking out. I get it.”

“Yeah?” Stiles cocked his head. Derek did seem awfully calm about things, and he was initiating contact, which was always good. “’Cos yeah, it was mostly about you, but also about growing up, and letting my dad be able to use it as a guest room if needed.”

“Not freaking out.” Derek promised, leaning in for a gentle but firm kiss. He nodded towards where Stiles’ old bed was leaning against the wall, the garage more a storage space than anything else. “The mattress on that smells hideous. I can deal with the new paint smell if it means I don’t have to sleep on that thing.”

Stiles smiled, happy that they weren’t dealing with another disaster like when Stiles had cleared out some space in his wardrobe for Derek. Apparently Derek hadn’t been quite so ready at the time to accept being part of a healthy relationship as Stiles had thought. Suddenly, Stiles sat up straight, “You could smell the new paint?”

Derek smirked, “It’s very faint, but it’s there. Trust me, I’d much rather smell that than a decade of sweat and cum.”

“Fucking werewolves, man.” Stiles mumbled, “So, what’s the big project for the day?”

“We’re gonna paint the side of the house, but depending on how long it takes, we might make a makeshift wooden fence around the trees to keep animals out while John changes the soil.”

It was like watching an alien speak with Derek’s voice, making Stiles ask, “Since when are you this comfortable with housework? Why did I not know you’re a handy guy? Have you seen the bench I have my TV on?”

“Yes, I have. But the difference is that your dad knows how to ask politely whereas you’re just going to be surprised the day that bench finally topples over.”

“Ha! Don’t say I didn’t warn you about him.”

The sheriff reappeared at that point, and he and Derek began preparing for the day’s work. Stiles joined them in the sense that he pulled up a chair and heckled their painting attempt, but also helped them out with moving ladders and protective paper around, and made sure they had drinks when needed. 

**

“What I don’t understand is how you can eat all the shit you do in D.C., and here suddenly you’re a cook.” Derek said that evening as Stiles was putting together a stir fry for his handymen. 

Laughing, Stiles said, “I’m a big believer in others doing as I say, not as I do.”

“Oh believe me, I know.” Derek grinned right back. He was standing next to Stiles by the kitchen counter, helping cut up vegetables. 

“I’ve always worried ‘bout my dad. I’ve told you ‘bout how things were after mom passed away. Cooking for him is my way of taking care of him, and making sure he doesn’t eat the shit that I eat.” 

“I don’t exactly need to watch what I eat, but I wouldn’t mind you cooking for me sometimes.” Derek said, voice strangely gritty, like the words were forcing their way out without Derek’s consent, like he wasn’t saying something hugely romantic. 

Stiles leaned into Derek’s side for a brief moment, “Okay.” He knew it was probably a complicated situation for Derek’s ‘wolf, wanting to provide for Stiles, but also taking pride in his boyfriend being able to provide for him. 

As if sensing that there was a moment to interrupt, John appeared and joined in the dinner preparations by setting the table. Instead of the moment completely disappearing, Stiles realized after a few minutes that it had changed into something bigger, perhaps even better. John was talking freely, taking potshots at Stiles who gave back as good as he got. Derek wasn’t made fun of exactly, but there was some gentle ribbing and he didn’t shy away from it, which Stiles loved. He could deal with his dad and Derek teaming up to make fun of him, since it meant that Derek’s nerves about visiting Beacon Hills were almost completely gone. He took care to only joke about Derek’s skills in the kitchen, and nothing too personal. By the way Derek laughed, he didn’t mind it one bit.

“Do you want to do the back of the house tomorrow?” Derek asked of John as they were finishing their meal. 

“Absolutely, if you’re up for it. Since you were good with the nails today on those planks too, I figured maybe I’d have to get you to take a look at the banister before you boys leave.”

“Oh my God, dad, stop using him!” Stiles groaned. 

“It’s fine, Stiles.” Derek assured.

“He offered.” John argued. 

“Yeah, and you’re abusing that offer.”

“I don’t mind.” Derek said, not that the Stilinskis were too interested in his opinion at the moment. 

“Well, I do. Dad, just ‘cos he’s a werewolf doesn’t mean you can make him do manual labor all day.”

“Stiles!” Derek exclaimed, eyes widening in panic.

John’s eyes widened too, “A werewolf?”

From the look on the others’ faces, Stiles realized he had maybe messed up a little, but powered through, “Derek, it’s fine, dad knows about werewolves. He knows I work in the Enhanced Species Unit.”

“I didn’t know you were dating one! I thought werewolves were bad.” John had an eye trained on Derek, and his index finger resting on his table knife.

“Not in general, though there are some that are vicious.” Stiles explained.

“What about all that stuff when Scott was bitten?” John continued, “We hunted that werewolf for weeks, and later that Alpha pack–” 

“Alpha pack?” Derek asked, the pitch of his voice raising ever so slightly. “You had an Alpha pack here?”

It was dawning on Stiles that maybe he should’ve shared more stories of his own past, instead of just being fascinated with Derek’s. “Yeah, uhm, I think that was the point when Scott’s dad find out.”

“Only ‘cos he was sent here to find out why I was doing such a shitty job of keeping the town safe.” John said, a hint of unforgotten anger in his voice.

“Sorry about that, dad.” Stiles fiddled with the collar of his shirt. 

Shaking his head lightly, Derek said, “Alpha packs are serious business.”

“Yup, and the way we dealt with them is part of the reason McCall helped me get to Quantico, and probably why he’s got me in his unit despite the fact that he hates me.” Stiles said.

“We really should talk about all the supernatural stuff you were around before we met.” Derek decided.

“We probably should.” Stiles agreed.

“Hey, if he’s a werewolf, I can get him up on the roof!” John exclaimed, looking very pleased. 

Stiles pointed an angry finger at his father, “You will do no such thing. He’s not here to work, dad. Besides, we’ll be back in the summer, you can save some chores for then.”

John nodded, “I guess. But we’re still painting the backside tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Stiles glared. 

**

Despite Stiles’ protests, Derek did end up on the roof, clearing it of debris from a particularly nasty storm that winter, and checking for signs of wear and tear. 

John and Stiles were both surprised when Derek offered to make lunch for them, but happily accepted. Derek used their rented car to get to the store, and Stiles took over his painting duties next to John. 

“You gotta stop giving him jobs. It’s not fair, he’s so eager to please you, he’ll do anything.”

John chuckled, “I know.”

“Da-ad!” Stiles whined. 

“Come on, let your old man have his fun. I think Derek would explode if I didn’t let him help somehow.”

Stiles sighed, “Yeah, I know.” He laughed, “That cactus was all him. He was so nervous to meet you.” He paused in his brushing, “Thanks for, you know, accepting him.”

John was halfway up a ladder, but he paused too, looking down at Stiles, “He’s a good kid, son. You did alright with him.” He turned back to his work, brush at the ready, “I don’t think it’s too smart you’re working together, and I don’t know how I feel about having a werewolf as a son-in-law, but he’s a good kid.”

Stiles wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of feelings those simple words of truth forced upon him. He had to swallow several times before he could say, “Thanks, dad. He’ll probably be your son-in-law for real, someday.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup.” Stiles always felt a combination of nervous and excited when he thought about the future. He knew the love he felt for Derek would only grow and become even more settled and secure. He thought Derek felt something similar for him. But their jobs were dangerous, and they’d both seen each other bleeding and wounded after run-ins with bloodthirsty monsters. The ghoul tearing Derek’s leg open last year had been part of the reason Stiles finally decided to make a move. 

“Then I guess I really can start thinking long-term with house improvements.” 

“You’re such a shit, dad.”

“Must be where you get it from.” John joked. “I’m back at work tomorrow. You should enjoy your alone time.”

“We will. Though I think he’s actually enjoyed impressing you.”

“Who said anything about me being impressed?” John wondered.

“Pfft, you’re impressed.”

“So he’s a werewolf, that don’t impress me much.”

Stiles dropped his paintbrush, “Did you just – no – are you serious? What the!”

**

The next morning, Stiles woke up to Derek’s fingers playing with his hair, the older man focusing on his phone.

“Whuzzut?” Stiles yawned.

“Tara thinks there might be a case in Vermont. Witches.”

Stiles battled with the sheets with his usual flair, somehow ending up the winner and sitting next to Derek with his back against the wall behind the head of the bed. “Should we go there straight from here?”

“Don’t know yet. We’ll see.”

They might have a week off duty, but as agents in highly specialized field, there was never any real vacation to speak off. Stiles enjoyed the quiet morning though, the chance to just lie in bed without doing anything. He blearily looked at Derek’s phone screen, reading Derek’s work emails along with him. Most of them were sent to Stiles too, and Derek didn’t seem to mind. They traded little grunts and comments about the department-wide monthly newsmail, McCall’s lack of real punctuation and agreed that they could read Reyes and Boyd’s report from New Orleans another day. 

“So, dad already left, right?”

“Yeah, his car squealed out of here about half an hour ago. He should take it to the shop before the brakes actually give out.”

“Oh you werewolves with your super hearing, always preparing for chaos before it descends. Tell me, where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun is not dying in a car crash.”

“Would you die though? Like, how mangled would you have to be?”

“I was hoping for something other this morning than a discussion of my possible death.”

Stiles smirked, shuffling down the bed, resting on his elbows while looking up at Derek, “And just what were you hoping for?”

Derek shrugged, putting his phone aside, “Peace and quiet, I guess.”

Stiles reached out, putting his hand on Derek’s stomach. Derek ran hot and slept clad in just a pair of flimsy basketball shorts. “Uh-uh.” 

“But I suppose if you wanted to give me that physical demonstration of sexual activities you promised me earlier in the week, I’d be fine with that too.” Derek’s breath hitched ever so slightly as Stiles ran his fingers along the hem of his shorts. 

They’d kept things to making out and one frenzied handjob, which was mostly down to them being tired and only a little because the sheriff was constantly around. Stiles wasn’t too concerned about being caught in a compromising situation, locks existed for a reason and his dad would never risk walking in on them, not after that very embarrassing incident in 2013. But Derek had seemed reluctant to do anything too much with John in the house, and Stiles completely understood. 

But they were alone in the house now, and Stiles had been hoping to get fucked in his old room. It was a cliché, but it was still hot as fuck. 

“Come, come, Mr. Hale, you derive just as much pleasure as I do from doing it in my childhood room.” Stiles dipped his hand inside Derek’s shorts.

“Okay, one, no Bond quotes, and two, you gonna blow me today?”

“Maybe,” Stiles kissed Derek’s abs, “to start with. But I think I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah. Get me ready.” 

That’s how Stiles ended up with an abused mouth and a stretched hole, riding Derek’s cock in the middle of a Thursday morning. Derek felt so good, sliding in and out of him, one strong hand on Stiles’ ass, the other groping along Stiles’ body. They were both panting, cursing at each other and asking for more. Stiles sat in Derek’s lap, using his lower body strength to flex up and down, fucking himself until he felt like he was floating. Derek got a hand on Stiles’ dick and started stroking him, making Stiles whine. Derek coaxed him down into a kiss, and in the uncoordinated sticky mess, Derek somehow pushed Stiles down on the bed. Stiles didn’t have time to catch his breath or his bearings before Derek was pushing inside of him again, putting his whole body into it. Stiles moaned as Derek got just the right angle, lightly tapping Stiles’ thigh to get him to throw his leg over Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s thrusts pushed Stiles down the bed, making Stiles grab at him but all of sudden Derek was coming, dick hard and twitching inside of him. Derek seemed just a little more on fire than usual, just like Stiles was, and instead of taking a moment to enjoy his climax, he pulled out and changed his position to get his mouth on Stiles’ dick. 

It took no time at all for Stiles’ to come, hands tight on Derek’s head and shooting down his throat. 

“That was fucking awesome.” Stiles said breathlessly when he came back to himself a few minutes later, smiling up at his boyfriend who had already cleaned them up. Stiles pushed his lips together, angling for a kiss. The thrill of happiness that ran through him when he was given one, almost made him as breathless as the sex had. 

“We could fuck some more before your dad gets home, but I’m hungry.”

Stiles laughed, “Look at us, acting like teenagers in dad’s house. Where are you going?”

Derek frowned, stopping before he reached the door, “…To make breakfast?”

“Nuh-uh, I’m taking you out. A fucking like that, you deserve to be treated.”

“Oh. Sure.” Derek looked down at himself. “We should shower though.”

Stiles laughed, “Come on, I’ll do your back. Ain’t no one gonna say I don’t treat my man right.”

Derek held out a hand, which Stiles happily took, the two of them smiling dumbly as they headed to the bathroom. 

**

“Well, son, don’t be a stranger.” John said, clapping Stiles’ back as Stiles and Derek was in the hall, getting ready to leave for the airport and Vermont.

“Never. I’m just a little hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

“Let your old man know when you’re gonna be cut off for days, okay? You’re not the only worrier in the family.”

“Will do, pops.” 

“And you,” John said, turning to Derek, “It was nice meeting you, son. I expect you’ll be back here with Stiles in no time.”

Derek’s face went through a number of emotions, hand frozen where he’d held it out. John politely ignored it and pulled him into a firm but quick embrace.

“Uh, yes, sir, I mean – John. Absolutely.”

“Great. We’ve still got that roof to stormproof for next winter.”

“Dad!” Stiles muttered.

John winked at Derek. “You let me know you get in okay, alright.”

“Yeah, I’ll text you.” Stiles promised. 

As they neared the airport, Derek suddenly slapped his head, “Oh crap, I forgot to tell your dad how to care for the cactus.”

Stiles laughed, “Derek, my dear, he forgot about the cactus the minute you agreed to help him out. You won his heart forever with that fence thing around the trees. He asked for your number you know, don’t freak out if he calls you to check on me, the devious prick.”

“Really, he wanted my number?” Derek grinned.

“Not in that way! And don’t sound so happy about it!” Stiles exclaimed. 

Derek mumbled something dismissive. 

“Hey,” Stiles let his hand rest on Derek’s thigh, “I told you you had nothing to be nervous about.”

“Yeah. Guess not.”

  



End file.
